Late Night at the CBI
by Mrs Dizzy
Summary: Thoughts that go through Lisbon's mind when she's still at the office, late at night, working.


**Late Night at the CBI**

_- or Musings of a Senior Agent_

Teresa Lisbon loved being in charge of a team and it had nothing to do with bossing people around.

Okay, maybe it _had_ something to do with bossing people around. Just a little bit though.

Actually, she'd rather have the team think that it _was_ because she loved bossing people around than have them find out the real reason - that it appealed to the maternal side in her.

That's right. Tough, formidable, no nonsense - who was she kidding with Patrick Jane around- Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon was a closet softie.

Her team was her second family and she cared deeply for them.

And sometimes, caring for someone meant telling them what they're supposed to do.

She quickly compared the notes from her black notebook with the information she'd put into one of the many departmental forms she often used. She sighed heavily.

What she _hated_ about being in charge of a team was the paperwork. She was glad that she was working in the age of computers

There was a reason why procedural cop shows never showed that part of the job. Sexy female cop in a tank top squatting over a dead body beats a balding uniformed officer hunched over an arrest form in entertainment value. Not that Lisbon had much time to watch tv and if she had, she'd probably wouldn't watch a cop show anyway.

That wasn't entirely true. She'd love to be able to watch that series about the FBI profilers with that actor she liked more regularly. And she used to watch The X-Files, though it could be argued that it leaned more towards the sci-fi genre. It was the only explanation she could find for how Agent Dana Scully managed to do all that investigating in those ridiculously high heels. In fact, it wasn't the unrealistic way cop work was portrayed that annoyed Lisbon. It was the way most of the female cop characters were dressed. Hey, if cleavage could stop a suspect from running away from you, then Lisbon was all for lowering the necklines and pushing up the bras. But running after a suspect without the proper support - and worrying that ones ass was going to fall out of impossibly low slung jeans any second now - wasn't how one caught said running suspect.

Then there was the show 'Medium'. If Jane ever asks about that, she'll just tell him it's seeing Jake Weber in boxers that does it for her. It _is_ half the truth, after all.

She saved the file she'd been working on and attached it to an email to Minelli. She knew she had still a few hours to go before the worst of it was taken care of.

It wasn't as if she hadn't been used to the paperwork before she accepted her promotion to senior agent. Just sometimes, when she was still in her office going through reports or filling-in forms long after everyone else from her team and most people at the Bureau had gone home, she felt a deep, sustaining grudge towards whoever had the brilliant idea for bureaucracy.

It was the formal complaint with Patrick Jane's name on it that finally made her slump back in her chair with irritation.

The man was perfectly capable of diplomacy, yet somehow Lisbon had to keep herself from smacking him on the mouth several times a day. She wondered if he _wanted_ her to smack him on the mouth. No, that was an absurd thought. Why would he want for her to hurt him? He didn't seem like the kind to be into that sort of thing. Then again...whoa, Lisbon, she thought. Focus, woman. She quickly scanned through the document.

She shook her head. He was lucky that all he got from announcing to a room full of people that the victim had been having an affair with her husband's uncle - while husband and uncle were standing right there - was a formal complaint. The husband had looked ready to beat Jane senseless. The consultant, unfortunately for her, had the good sense to hide behind Lisbon. She'd noticed that he did that a lot - use her as a shield. She should be more offended.

And whether his accusation was true or not, they still didn't know. Jane seems to be sure.

She didn't feel like dealing with the complaint immediately but experience had taught her that if she didn't take care of these as soon as possible, she'd only have them piling up on her desk within the week.

Right now, however, she needed a break. Stretching her arms above her head, she felt the tingling of dry skin. She was going to have a nice hot bath when she got home. If she wasn't too tired by then. She usually was.

She grabbed the cinnamon scented lotion she had stashed away in her drawer, squirting out a big glob of soothing cool cream unto her left forearm. Putting the bottle down, she pressed her right forearm to her left one and using her hands, slowly, sensuously worked the lotion into her skin.

The smell of cinnamon always put her in a better mood.

A cup of tea - a beverage she'd stopped drinking during office hours since Jane had started consulting for them - and a little stroll around the bullpen to loosen up cramped muscles would refresh her enough to power through the last of the paperwork.

Their communal kitchen provided a greater variety of tea than it used to, they even had a tin of Lady Grey at the back of the cupboard. She grabbed a teabag, preferring Darjeeling over the slightly stronger Ceylon Jane often drank, smiling involuntarily at the sight of his blue cup. She remembered the bag of M & M's Rigsby had given her last week.

She used to believe that at the age she was now, she'd be spending weeknights at home, tucking kids into bed and snuggling up to a nice, solid man on the couch.

Life hadn't turned out the way she'd planned - or, much less, imagined. Still, there were worse things than watching water boil and making sure that she'd eat the blue M & M's last. She could think of one person who was probably wrestling demons right now. Her life wasn't that bad in comparison.

She had a job that challenged and fulfilled her...and not much else. Okay, so she had a fairly good relationship with her brothers and their families. It was nice exercising her Aunt Tessa muscles whenever she spent time with her nephews and niece. Plus the few friendships she still maintained assured her that she was capable of having human interaction with people not related to or working with her.

Yet, a voice inside of her was always nagging "Shouldn't there be more?" Then the whole argument started from beginning again - was she happy, yes she was, no she wasn't, but she should be.

And all it came down to in the end was the loneliness.

Was it a conscious choice she made, being alone? Was it the residual fears and insecurities from her childhood that kept her from taking the risk of completely giving herself to someone else?

Intimacy. She shivered involuntarily.

She'd had her share of relationships. Not many but enough to know how nice it felt to have someone.

And they've always ended with her wondering if anyone could ever really love her, knowing that she'd always give all of her heart to them. Her default setting was a heavy firewall around her most vulnerable self. She couldn't blame her partners when they finally gave up in frustration. But she couldn't stop _her own _resentment either. Wasn't she worth enough for them to keep fighting until her walls crumbled? And why couldn't she just settle for less than everything? Most people did and they were happy.

Lisbon sighed. She took a sip from her tea and popped a yellow M & M into her mouth. Biting down on it with more force than necessary, she enjoyed the crunchy sound it made.

Her relationship woes wouldn't be solved by tea and candy. If they could - well, she probably wouldn't be here right now, wandering through the quiet halls of the CBI headquarters.

She'd always been a person who reveled in movement and action. She remembered the argument with her mother when she wanted to take martial arts classes and her mother suggested doing something more feminine - like tap dance. She ended up doing both.

After her mother's accident, being able to pour all her grieve into the physical demands of Judo and dancing probably helped her get through with what was happening with her father with more sanity than anyone expected. Later, nearer the end, when she had to give those two things up, it only added to the anger she began feeling towards the man who was supposed to be the responsible adult in the family.

Even now, with wisdom gained from distance and experience, remembering that night always made her eyes burn with tears kept in check.

She took a sip from her tea, trying to steady herself, make the memories go away. Thanks to Jane, she'd gotten better at hiding her feelings. Not that there was anyone here right now to hide her feelings from. Still, the more practice she got the better.

The bullpen at night - empty of people and the background noise of work - almost looked like a magical place. Lisbon smiled softly at her fanciful thought, glad for the distraction.

She curiously looked at the cryptic post-it notes Van Pelt had stuck to her computer screen. It had taken her a while, but spending enough nights during the work week looking at them, had helped her crack the code. Reading one particular message, she made a mental note of comparing a file with the information VanPelt had collated on a particular case.

Lisbon liked the young agent. A team player, hardworking and diligent, she was a real asset to the bureau. Also, while Lisbon loved 'her boys', it was nice having another female on the team to remind them who the stronger sex really was.

What she admired most about Van Pelt was how she stuck to her principles and beliefs even when people ridiculed her for it. Sure, she did come off as a bit naive at times, but it only reminded Lisbon not to become too cynical about the way of the world.

Cho's desk was immaculately organized, as always. His system was so logical and efficient that it hadn't taken Lisbon long to figure out where what was. She ran a hand over the uncluttered surface, wishing she was this neat. She knew that his orderliness came from the time he'd spent in juvenile hall. Trying to reconcile the Cho she knew - responsible, careful, precise, reliable, loyal - with the Cho who spent some time at a youth detention center for 'acts of delinquency', only made the unflappable agent more interesting to Lisbon. The few times when Cho had shown her his 'wild' side, she could do nothing but approve of it.

Popping a brown M & M into her mouth, Lisbon grinned at the sight of Rigsby's desk - the polar opposite of Cho's. She couldn't remember how many times she had to stop herself before calling the agent by her youngest brother's name.

Despite the messiness of his work area, Rigsby always knew where his things were, especially if they were edible. She knew that the second drawer on the left was filled with snack items. That's where the bag of M & M's had come from. She'd had more conversations about food when on stakeout with Rigsby the past year, than with anyone else in her entire adult life.

It was easy to dismiss him as a big, lovable oaf - comic sidekick to straight-man Cho - but Lisbon knew how good an agent he was. Sure, sometimes he reacted before his brain had been able to process everything, but his heart was in the right place.

She probably wouldn't want to have anyone on her team whose heart wasn't in the right place.

Then there was Jane's desk. With its carefully arranged books and objects, it looked more like something from an interior decorating magazine. Lisbon wondered why they still had it as Jane practically never used it, preferring the couch to do his work from.

She remembered the day that piece of furniture was brought in and Jane's impishly proud smile as he sat on it, trying to persuade her to test it out with him. And, as she'd gotten used to by now, all her protestations about it being inappropriate and unprofessional had been waved off by Jane's infuriatingly rational words.

Jane on the couch had become as familiar a sight as Minelli's scowl everytime the consultant had managed to do something outside the regulations. Which didn't require much effort by Jane, as he positively reveled in ignoring them. Lisbon might as well record the lecture she felt compelled to give him, knowing that they were mostly a waste of her time.

Shame that hypnopaedia had been discredited as an "impractical and possibly improbable" way of teaching things, she often thought. Regular hypnosis was out of the question anyway, as Jane always claims that one can't convince someone in a trance to do something he normally wouldn't do.

Yet it can make people think a dead body is a sack of potatoes. And boy agents in denial kiss girl agents in denial. Lisbon chuckled at the memory. She often felt like hitting Rigsby on the head and telling him to just go for it, screw the bureau's policy on office romances.

She looked into the bag of M & M's, delighted that only the blue ones were left. Feeling like she should celebrate this moment, she walked over to Jane's couch and settled on it as if she owned it.

She was sure that Jane suspected her using 'his' couch when no one was around. After all, he _had_ accused her of it. "Admit it, you like it," he'd said. She hadn't admitted it of course. Not admitting anything to Jane that she didn't have to was a rule in the silly little game they were playing.

Truth was that Lisbon didn't mind if Jane knew. She was curious, though, what had made him suspicious? Because whatever it was, it must have been extremely minute, something only someone like Jane would notice. Or he might have been stabbing in the dark, asking her a question just to see what her reaction would be. And probably from her non-reaction to the question, he'd pieced together that a) she did use the couch when no one was around b) she wished she had a couch in her office and c) she was running low on fabric softener.

She just hoped he didn't know that she sat on his couch sometimes, trying to see the world as he did. Walk a mile in another man's shoes or in this case sit on another man's couch.

Not that it had ever worked, so far. But she had noticed that the CBI headquarters had nice ceilings.

Lisbon didn't mind the comments made by other senior agents about the increase in successful arrests ever since Jane had joined her team. If she was in it for the glory - the bragging rights for the statistics - she'd be offended. But she hadn't chosen this kind of work to be praised for her achievements.

She did it because someone had to make sure that the bad guys won less often. And if Jane was helping her achieve just that, she had no problems with using his skills to reach her objectives.

Did she envy his talents for observation? Of course she did. Did she resent him for having them? Only when he was using them on her.

She leaned her head back on the couch, eating the last of the M & M's. She couldn't explain why she liked the blue ones the most.

The musky smell of leather had her wishing that she was at home with a glass of nice wine. She turned her head to inhale deeply, comforted by the smell she associated with Jane. She smiled. If he ever caught her doing this, she'd be embarrassed beyond everything.

He may piss her off or freak her out with his 'skills', but deep down, he always made her feel safe. And that is what scared her most about him. The last person who had given her that kind of feeling - well, she'd learned that life had a cruel streak.

Trusting Jane when all her fears and insecurities told her not to, it had her twisted in more ways than she wanted to be.

She was a sucker for people who needed to be fixed. Her father's suicide had done a number on her. Would she ever be able to completely forgive him for that?

She hoped she could.

She drank the last of the tea and decided to stay on the couch for a while longer. Mentally sorting through the paperwork still to be finished, information they had regarding their latest case and the laundry waiting at home, she found herself drifting into a light sleep.

Then it occurred to her. The stomach contents. They made no sense.

_The next day_

Jane happily settled down on his couch, the first time he'd been able to today.

He'd barely arrived at the office this morning when Lisbon had dragged him to the car to see their suspect.

Six hours later, a solid confession and Lisbon quietly glowing with satisfaction for putting away another 'bad guy' - he was entitled to quick nap, wasn't he?

Well, with Lisbon occupied with more paperwork, make that a two-hour nap.

Jane closed his eyes, smiling to himself, breathing in the comforting musk of the leather and the faint smell of cinnamon.

_A/N: Thank you for reading. I'm working on a few multi-chapter fics (some sort of angsty) and because I know that I have to write at least two chapters worth for them before I allow myself to post them, it's taking a while. So again, to get a the inspiration flowing, I wrote something not entirely un-related to an idea I'm working on. Also, I heart Teresa Lisbon._

_UPDATE: As mentioned, this little piece isn't un-related to another fic I'm working on. A few changes have been to tie it in better with other story.  
_

_The Mentalist - NOT mine. _


End file.
